


Let It Go, Son

by LittleWinter



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A little bit sad tbh, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, How Do I Tag, We Feed Orphans in This House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWinter/pseuds/LittleWinter
Summary: This is set soon after John is saved from a lynching by Dutch. John is twelve years old, he's scrawny, hungry, and by golly we feed him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Let It Go, Son

**Author's Note:**

> I write tons of stuff, but I never post it. Thanks to a little (a lot) of encouragement from a very dear friend, I'm finally contributing to one of my favorite fandoms!  
Feedback is always appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome, as long as it's actually constructive.

The boy was so skinny that his clothes looked thrice his size, and his collarbones poked out over the loose band of his shirt like deep footholds on a cliff. The bony fingers of one of his hands awkwardly clutched a metal spoon, the other a bowl of stew. The stew was still steaming, but he ignored his sizzling tongue and ate.  
Arthur made the mistake of shifting, of reaching into his satchel for his cigarettes. The boy reacted strangely, flinching and turning his upper body away. His eating did not pause. In fact, he ate faster. He had the bowl emptied into his mouth and was scraping at the bottom with his spoon. How he managed to swallow with the red rope burns around his throat was a mystery.  
Arthur struck a match and lit his cigarette. He drew in a lungful of smoke and watched with a detached expression as the boy lapped at his spoon until it glistened, then sucked it into his mouth like a pacifier. He looked up, and Arthur looked down at him, and their eyes met; suddenly shy, the spoon came out of his mouth and he looked into his lap.  
Arthur knelt beside him and exhaled a cloud of smoke. The boy coughed.  
Arthur reached out a hand towards the empty bowl, which the young thing became fiercely protective of; he shed his sheepish nature like a second skin and held the bowl so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  
Arthur spoke around the cigarette.  
"Let it go, son." He said, feeling as if the ten years between them made the word accessable to him at last.  
The boy released it.  
Arthur left him there for a moment and returned with the bowl filled up to the brim, nearly spilling. When Arthur returned it to the kid, he could see the surprise cross over his face. It chipped away a little of the rust of a hard life. The boy looked at him through long eyelashes and greasy dreads of dark hair, eyes wide and vulnerable like eating good was something he'd never known.  
"Go on," Arthur said, and that was all that he needed to hear. He was in the stew with almost as much enthusiasm as before. Thick broth dribbled down his chin and made a bad mess much worse on the front of his shirt.  
Arthur had a seat on the grass, his legs up so he could rest an arm across them as he smoked. He watched the boy, taking long glances at him every once in a while. Sometimes he'd catch a pair of eyes looking back at him. They were mutually curious of one another, it seemed, so Arthur took a chance.  
"You got a name?" He asked.  
The boy sniffled and wiped the lower half of his face off on his forearm. When a minute had passed and it seemed he wouldn't get an answer, Arthur's boredom let his gaze drift off towards the sky.  
"John," Came a small reply. "Marston."


End file.
